


You Are Real

by MWDG



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, they deserve all the happiness in the world, very good, very nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 13:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12654915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MWDG/pseuds/MWDG
Summary: It's been a few years since the Events, and everyone is still processing. Mike and Will discuss many things, including some feelings they may have for one another. (I may add a bit later)





	You Are Real

         El and Mike would sit, talking as they frequently did. It had been a strange time in their small town, a stranger time indeed for them. One’s emotional state seemed heightened to a point of confusion, nothing else seemed to matter except finding Will, and figuring out the emotional ramifications of having witnessed a creature pop out of a wall like a damn jack in the box. On halloween, years beyond the trick or treating age, they’d sit around Mike’s basement floor in dumb costumes and play D+D, Dustin never failed to come up with some alcoholic beverage, Eleven with candy they’d eat straight from the bag. They’d all sleep over, and sometimes in the wee hours of morning they would get philosophical. They had had a long time to think, surely they were different right? Or perhaps they were the same. How might they have grown up differently had they not encountered a white hell man slither out of their science teacher’s chalkboard? Eleven would remind Mike that the creature was her past, and her life had changed when she met him. She was grateful. Older now, and understanding of the condition of other’s like her, she thought about the ability to love. To empathize. How difficult it was, but how she had learned, and how Mike had helped her. Not romantic love, no not at all, but he was far from a friend. Dustin thought about how crazy it all was, he thought about how dumb it was for him to still have nightmares about it. Lucas thought about how dumb it was to dwell on it too long, and after too much philosophizing would grumble and tell them all to go to sleep before somebody started crying (usually Dustin, he was a drunk criar). But in his waking hours, without meaning to Lucas found himself looking blankly into the distance just remembering and growing more and more sad until he had to shake himself out of it. Mike thought about Will, and he thought about those many nights that he lay awake in bed just wondering. He thought about that one time he had really cried. Bitterly and silently for his friend, not knowing if he was dead, or if he wasn’t, if he’d ever see him again. El and Mike would sit and talk, and Mike would tell her about how much he thought about Will, within and without the context of the Upside- Down time. He’d tell her a little too much, and he’d regret it. He’d tell her about his instinct to protect Will. Sometimes after an episode, how he’d just want to hold him and not let go and make sure nothing ever took him again. He couldn’t though, he was powerless against a creature that existed within Will’s memory. He told El he felt helpless. He felt like he had no right to feel anything after what Will had been through. Eleven would pat his back quietly. Eventually Mike would snort out a dry little half laugh and joke that probably nothing comes close to what she was dealing with, and El would chuckle grimly and they’d go back to discussing whatever light topic they had been talking about before.

       Mike didn’t quite have the nerve to tell anyone the truth though. He barely confronted it himself. He glossed over large chunks of unidentified feelings, chalking it up to the “instinct to protect” and other semi-bullshit that was true but not in the way that people thought. It was hard to tell that Mike had fallen for Will, he managed to hide it, or maybe he’d always felt like this and it was just a natural part of their interactions. He was so used to scoffing at games of Truth or Dare, and faking the “who do you have a crush on” question. It was easy really, pretending not to have feelings for his best friend. It was one of those nightly rituals, forcing himself to imagine this or that girl but failing, and in the small and blurred moments before dreams, Will would come with his sweet smile and his kind mannerisms and make Mike feel a way he couldn’t describe. Well, he could, but he refused. Forced laughter, and he’d tell himself that he wasn’t gay. That was that, time for bed.

       Will, completely unbeknownst to Mike, grappled with the same feelings, though after the demagorgen it was far easier for him to admit. Things seemed grayer in comparison. Everything in a clean, cyclical normality that was supposed to be comforting. Everyone always giving him pitying looks, trying to help, and failing. Drama at school seemed nominal. Even drama in the town seemed to pale in comparison. There was a dissociation that occurred, a disconnect between this world and the Upside-down. Sometimes the real world was the half rendered numbness of a dream and the Upside-down was the real place. The place where real fear lived, where cold bit into him and the air was sharp, and all surfaces slick to the touch. Where the blackness of the sky grew darker with a glance, where dead skin floated through the air like ash. The shadow thing a thing to be felt all around like a stench, a presence as very tangible as his own. A resonance that beat with his heart, a presence as oppressive as pure darkness. It was times like these when Will would loose himself again and, by no will of his own, return to this place that paradoxically felt more real than the one he existed in. When Mike was with him he’d hear his voice calling him, and he’d come back and feel the real world. The warmth of the sun, the crisp outline of color that made everything truly real. Sometimes it was the scratching of pencils, the rustling of leaves, A car pulling into a driveway. The smell of the film in the AV room. Mike. Everything about Mike really. Will would feel Mike nearby, his arm around his shoulder. His smell. The sound of his voice. It was the brush of Mike’s knuckles against his own. Or the concerned bend of his head downward, and the furrow of his brow. The slight of his smile. The fullness of his lips that Will longed to kiss, unable and unwilling to keep himself from this thought. It was as simple as a hand reaching for another and holding it, and not letting go, or perhaps the anchor that kept him from drifting too far away.

        It was December when Will gave in finally and told Mike everything he was feeling. Mike was sleeping over for a few nights, due to a snow storm. It was odd remembering when they were smaller, not they barely both fit in one room, talk of cartoons and science fiction and lewd jokes turned to uncomfortable talk of girls and who was hooking up with who, and how this or that person was dumb. They laughed and joked, as they did at the inherently unimpressive nature of such gossip. Eventually, realizing that they probably wouldn’t do much sleeping, Mike sat with Will in bed and they talked about other things. As the conversation always did, it shifted to the Upside-Down time. Not specific references, but rather observations about how they were feeling. Maybe a rotting pumpkin would send back memories. Mike worried he was forgetting, and he worried about not wanting to forget. Will nodded. Mike admitted to feeling helpless. How when Will have an episode, as rarely as they were now, it was hard for Mike. He wanted to help, and couldn’t. Will smiled.  
        “It’s getting better,” he said “I haven’t had an episode for at least three months, so.”  
        “That’s great!”  
        “Yeah,” Will replied, “Memories mostly come in dreams nowadays.”  
        “Still,” said Mike, “I guess I worry about you a lot.”  
         Will thought there was something else there, there was little for Mike to be worrying about and yet he was so protective of him, almost like second nature. It didn’t feel nagging or annoying, it felt nice. Mike found Will’s fingers in the dark and brushed them with his own. Will swallowed at the contact. It was time, he told himself. He should be honest with his friend.  
        “I uh,” he said “I’ve been thinking about some stuff recently.”  
        “What’s up?”  
        “Sometimes nothing feels real,” said Will, “And when I… go away, the Upside-down feels more real than this does.”  
        Mike was quiet.  
        “I mean not this— I guess that’s the point,” Will paused, “You always… feel real… Does that make any sense?”  
        “I get it,” Mike replied. Something moved inside him, a stirring of that feeling he tried so hard to pass off as bullshit. Will linked his fingers with Mike’s.  
        “You’re like an anchor,” said Will quietly, he laughed nervously “I don’t know if that’s dumb or not—“  
        “No! It’s not,” said Mike, “I get it. I feel the same… sometimes.”  
        Will took a breath before speaking again. It seemed brave, and honest, “You feel real,” he repeated.

        There was an unspoken agreement hanging between them, perhaps in the rapid beating of their hearts, their proximity that felt almost like warm wool. Their fingers interlocked. Mike moved closer and with a nervous hand reached to clasp gently the nape of Will’s neck. Their foreheads bumped, perhaps Mike had something else in mind, but nevertheless when Will leaned in to kiss him, Mike did not pull away. His face hot, he reveled in the release of Will so close to him, holding his face. It was tense for a moment, finding each other’s lips in the darkness, hands moving to feel tentatively at each other’s bodies. Will moved ever closer, wanting to live in the scent of his skin. They pulled away, suddenly aware of their position, tangled, breathing short. Flushed and unable to describe exactly what had happened, Mike stood to go back to his sleeping bag, but Will grabbed his arm before he could leave.  
        “Stay?” he said quietly. Mike nodded, sliding awkwardly under the covers. The bed was far too small for them both, but they didn’t mind. Will wrapped an arm around Mike’s waist and shifted his head closer. Mike was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed.  
        “I guess I like you,” he said eventually. An obvious statement, that he immediately regretted.  
Will laughed, “I guess so.”  
        “So like,” Mike hated how dumb he sounded. “I guess you like me too.”  
        “Yeah,” replied Will.  
        Mike lay silently, in thought. It felt right. No amount of suppressing could prevent the warmth that Mike felt in that moment, no sense of wrongdoing, no sense of danger or a deviation of himself. Mike had a curious thought that nothing had felt so right, until now. As if he was waking up from a dream, to something far more beautiful. As if it would feel strange in the morning when the sun would rise upon a new and snow covered land, and the two would be forced to detach from one another and face whatever it was just as they had done in the past for so long.  
        “What are we gonna do tomorrow?” He asked quietly.  
         Will shrugged, “Act normal I guess,” he said. He was used to that. He’d act buddy, buddy with Mike, he wouldn’t let his gaze linger too long, he wouldn’t get flustered. Mike would goof off with the rest of the gang. He wouldn’t get too close. Will suddenly felt lonely. He thought the absence of Mike’s hand in his own. What if he would drifted out again, and Mike wasn’t there to pull him back. He was used to coming back alone, but the real world could be so colorless. So cold. So hard to differentiate between the two…

        As if reading his mind, Mike shifted closer, and kissed Will’s forehead. Something small, but it was a ripple from which ill thought of the future faded. Will nestled close, and concentrated on Mike. His arm around his shoulder. His smell. The sound of his breathing. It was the brush of Mike’s fingers against his cheek. It was as simple as a hand reaching for another and holding it, and not letting go, or perhaps the anchor that kept him from drifting too far away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading everyone! If you have a critique please share. If you'd like more, please share. If you didn't like it and you think I should stop writing and do my homework, please let me know.


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